Sunday Routine

As all New Yorkers know, the best section in the New York Times bar none is the “Sunday Routine.” . . . Seems like everyone does pretty much the same stuff on Sunday. So what makes the “Sunday Routine” section so fascinating?

—Gawker.

UP AND AT 'EM: My day starts at seven, when our dog, Percival, and our kids, Madisonaddison and Andersoncooper, jump into bed with us. Percival is a Pigapoo, which is a very rare breed. It’s a cross between a Shih Tzu and a pig. Percival has breathing problems, because he’s an affront to God’s plan and isn’t supposed to exist, so we have to be very careful when we’re roughhousing with him, or he’ll suffocate and we’ll have to introduce our kids to the concept of death.

Breakfast in bed: On Sundays, we throw all our healthy habits out the window and really indulge, so it’s nothing but salami, doughnuts, and vegetable oil. Brian, my husband, makes the meanest salami-doughnut-vegetable-oil slop.

Breaking A sweat: I like to get exercise out of the way in the morning so I can relax for the rest of the day. Right now, I’m completely obsessed with the Dock Method, which is this thing where you work on the docks for a few hours, tossing cargo into shipping holds, and they pay you $6.75 an hour. The guys in my class are super ripped, which is very motivating.

Culture club: After we’ve had our breakfast and moved around a little, we like to do something culturally enriching as a family, so usually it’s off to the Met to stroll through the vaults where they keep the stolen Nazi art. We have a platinum membership, which gets you into all the chambers.

Unplug and unwind: We’ve recently started doing this thing where we totally disconnect for a few hours, and it’s been really liberating. No cell phones, no iPads, no laptops, nothing. We don’t even use language. We limit ourselves to vowel sounds and grunts, and just get back in touch with our primal selves, roaming around the apartment, pissing and shitting at will, and foraging for scraps of salami. Heaven.

Gender check-in: We don’t want the kids to be influenced by us or by society or by anybody when it comes to choosing their genders, so we’re giving them time to decide, and they’re still thinking about it. We don’t want their decision to be influenced by the genitals that they happened to be born with, so we keep them dressed in breathable-cotton chastity belts, and as soon as they decide their genders we’ll take them off so they can see which sex organs they have. They’re only sophomores, so we’ve still got time before the big college search.

Grocery shopping: Sometimes, in the afternoon, we’ll go grocery shopping for the week. Get milk, eggs, bread. Stuff like that.

Drop in on secret family: I’ll check in with my secret family for a few hours—make sure the heat’s on, that there are groceries in the fridge, that kind of thing.

Percival’s P.T.: Because Percival is such a special breed, he has several genetic defects. For example, he was born without legs. Brian takes him to physical therapy at a wonderful vet we’ve been going to for years, and he’ll practice strengthening his neck so that he can pull himself forward.

Take everyone in a pediatric oncology ward to see “Hamilton”: Nothing makes you feel more grateful to be alive than popping into a pediatric oncology ward, saying, “Come on, everybody!,” and whisking all the patients away to see the hit Broadway musical “Hamilton.” Even though many of the children are terminal cases, they can still heed Alexander Hamilton’s tip to not waste their shot with the time they’ve got left.

Dinner: On Sunday nights, we like to take it easy and stay in, so Brian will do something simple, like take some olive oil, salt, and lemon and sprinkle it on a huge pile of salami, doughnuts, and vegetable oil.

Odds and Ends: When the dishes are done, I’ll catch up on e-mail, help the kids with their homework, and see if any of my bids on Nazi-plundered art have come through.

Watch “Kingpin”: We’ll watch “Kingpin” a couple of times. Once for laughs, and once more to appreciate the craft.

Bedtime: After a glass of liquid melatonin, a few minutes of meditation, some gentle stretching, and a Motrin 800, I’m out like a light. ♦

Jen Spyra, a former senior writer for the Onion, is a staff writer for “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.”